


Love's Not a Competition

by lokiarrty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff, Fluff Like Whoa, Johnlock Gift Exchange, JohnlockChallenges Exchange, M/M, both Sherlock and John are teachers, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokiarrty/pseuds/lokiarrty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little competition between teachers can go a long way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Not a Competition

**Author's Note:**

> For [abstractionbetweenspaceandshape](http://abstractionbetweenspaceandshape.tumblr.com) , based on her prompt, “First kiss set in any AU in which John and Sherlock are teachers. They don’t get along really well until the kiss happens.” for the johnlockchallenges' gift exchange.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and Happy Valentines Day!

* * *

 

 

 

You had two options when it came to the Chemistry teachers at Fellcrest; tall, dark hair, tight fitting suits, and hands on teaching with Mr. Holmes, or short, blonde hair, comfortable jumpers, and patient step by step work with Mr. Watson. Both were great teachers, both knew what they were talking about, and both taught the same information sufficiently, just very, very differently. 

It was common knowledge that the two were competing against one another. Ever since Sherlock had joined the school he had presented himself as arrogant and cocky. The first time he met John he had scoffed at his teaching methods and told him that he could get his student to retain more information than John could, and it had started an all out war. For the past four years Sherlock and John would compare their students test scores to see which teacher had the collective higher score. It was the fifth year of the competition and they were at a draw. 

It was all really playful competition. After the first year that John’s students had beat Sherlock’s, Sherlock had taken back his statement about John’s methods and began to strategize for the upcoming year. Both men being highly competitive made the whole thing all the more fun, for themselves, and for the students. 

Their competition wasn’t the only thing was talked about. Everyone also seemed to collectively agree that Sherlock and John were fucking. The rumors were false, obviously, but it didn’t stop the students from bringing it up. When Sherlock and John got into heated arguments over anything and everything, electricity would spark and those lucky enough to catch the fight would swear the sexual tension was thick enough to cut.

They were always very careful, only having arguments after or before school, and never purposefully in front of any of the students but once an argument started it usually got loud and Sherlock would loam over John, only to have John push back. It was only logical to assume that they were having sex, since no one was throwing punches their aggression must have been taken out in other ways. 

Adding fuel to the fire, they never seemed to be out of each other’s company. They only seemed to have loud arguments every now and then but when they weren’t they discussed. They didn‘t have many of the same opinions but that just made their discussions more intriguing, though that wasn‘t to say they didn‘t have some of the same ideas on some matters. Once a couple students had intercepted them as they walked to lunch and asked if they were best friends to which they both replied, “No, I hate this stupid git,” at the same time, which resulted in them being referred to as married. 

They would also send students with notes back and forth that contained coded messages. The code changed frequently but when one of the more intelligent students saw the note they were forced to stop as one read, “Fluorine-Uranium-Carbon-Potassium Yttrium-Oxygen-Uranium” or once decoded “f-u-c-k y-o-u.” The students didn’t mind, but the principal did. 

Being the great teachers that they were, they also had after school tutoring sessions every Tuesday and Thursday that they held for both of their classes. They had agreed to switch off who stayed after school every other week but Sherlock would always weasel his way out of it and only do it every three weeks instead and only if John stayed after with him. 

“It’s all so tedious, I don’t know how you do this every week,” Sherlock said walking back from a student he had helped and sitting on John’s desk. He picked up the Sudoku rubrics cube he had been working on and eyed it again. 

“I have patients, you don’t,” John replied nonchalantly leaning back in his chair, eyeing a stack of papers in his right hand and twirling a red pen with his left. 

He was all too used to Sherlock pestering him and complaining when they both stayed after school for tutoring. When Sherlock begged him to stay after school with him so he wasn’t alone with /them/ (a rather fearful emphasis on the word them) John had reluctantly agreed and only if Sherlock was the one who helped them out.

“I have patience, it’s redundancy I don’t have time for,” Sherlock sneered.

“Well then you shouldn’t have become a teacher,” John laughed.

Sherlock kicked him and John pushed his leg away with a smile when a student approached.

“Aw you guys are so cute,” She sang.

“Cute is not a word I would use to describe Sherlock,” John cringed, “Obtrusive and presumptuous I can see, but cute? No.”

“Stop kidding yourself John,” Sherlock winked

“I will when you do,” John said, his voice at least one octave lower.

Sherlock hopped off the table and turned to the girl, “What do you need help with?” He sighed.

“No, no it’s fine. Keep flirting,” She said backing away.

“We’re not flirting,” John said.

“Chemical bonds? Really Stephanie, of all the easy subjects to have trouble with,” Sherlock said ignoring both the previous statements.

“Just help her,” John said hitting Sherlock’s leg with the stack of papers.

“Fine,” He placed down the rubrics cube, “Don’t touch that.”

Sherlock walked away and John moved the cube slightly with his pen. He saw Sherlock smile. Those who were at the study hall spread the news like wild fire. Needless to say, the next day they were teased even more than normal. 

Surprisingly, the two teachers were able to keep the stakes for their competition a secret. The first year it was buying a new microwave. John won and relished in bringing microwavable foods every day and laughing at Sherlock each time he did. The next year it was to make copies for them whenever they needed it. The copy machine was infamous for breaking down so when John won that year too he got to enjoy seeing Sherlock’s limited patience wear very thin while making both their hundreds of copies. After that it was cleaning the other teacher’s room. John lost and Sherlock sat on one of the lab station work tops and watched John clean his room for three hours. Last year it was grading home work. John lost that too and was currently suffering with stacks of papers to grade for both himself and Sherlock. They hadn’t come up with the stakes yet for whoever won this year but they were plotting. This was the main reason they didn’t want the students to know, because they would try to interfere and come up with ideas, most likely inappropriate ones. 

But what Sherlock and John didn’t know, was that the teachers also had a bet going on about them. Everyone had bets on when they would finally fuck or at least kiss. Even the principal who was rather conservative had in on the action. It seemed everyone knew it was inevitable except for them. They or rather John continued to deny having any such feelings except for spite for the other man; Sherlock just chose not to respond. Even when John did say he didn’t like Sherlock he would smile after the statement as if thinking on him fondly. 

Sherlock and John were sitting close together after a weekly teachers meeting, analyzing the data from their classes collaborated assignments. They were turned toward each other, knees brushing, and heads leaning in close as they looked over the same paper. 

“Hey, freak,” Ms. Donavan said to Sherlock. John glared at her.

“Keeping a set of clothes at Mr. Anderson’s house now?” Sherlock said offhandedly. 

“Like you’re one to talk with you and John sleeping together,” She retorted.

“Even if that were true,” Sherlock bit out, “At least neither one of us are married.”

That shut her up, and usually John would have told Sherlock how very, not good, that was but he didn’t care all that much for Ms. Donavan anyways. She had always been one to tease Sherlock. Only he was allowed to tease Sherlock. 

“Stop that,” Sherlock told John.

John looked at him confused and saw Sherlock’s eyes cast down. He followed his gaze to see that his leg was moving up and down and rubbing against Sherlock’s. He flushed and immediately moved away.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Sherlock whispered, “I meant stop getting mad at Sally for calling me names, it doesn’t bother me so it shouldn’t bother you. Though thank you as well for stopping your leg, it was rather distracting.” 

If John didn’t spend so much time with Sherlock he would have missed the faint shade of scarlet that flashed across Sherlock’s cheeks. 

“I just don’t see why she has to be mean to you,” John said.

“You’re mean to me,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Am I?” John said guiltily. 

Sherlock looked up and met John’s eyes. He smiled.

“My class did better on the assignment,” He stated.

John rolled his eyes, pushed Sherlock’s shoulder away playfully, and they went back to work.

On any given day, asking Sherlock or John the nature of their relationship would get you an answer along the lines of friendship, colleague, and acquaintance. On days like these the answer would be “it’s complicated.”

 

*

 

Sherlock and John sat across from each other eating lunch as they normally did, John ate and Sherlock read or took notes for upcoming classes. Today it was notes.  It was usually filled with comfortable silence, but that day they couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting and taking fleeting glances at one another. At one point they both looked at the same time and flushed turning away. 

“So,” John said lamely, “Come up with anything you‘d like to give me when I win?”

“You mean, what I’ll take from you when I win,” Sherlock smiled.

“Except we both know I’m going to win,” John returned it.

“Confident are we?”

“Always,” he smiled behind his cup, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I have my ideas,” Sherlock smirked, it sounded very much like innuendo with his deep baritone voice and looking up at John through his lashes. They were dancing around each other yet again.

“And what are these… _ideas_?” John said leaning in.

Sherlock did too, “Oh you know,” He said indifferently then smiled mischievously, biting his lip. 

“Do I?” John‘s eyebrows shot up.

“You will,” Sherlock said biting the end of his pen. 

They fell silent again just looking at one another until they got interrupted. 

“Hello,” Molly, the schools new Health teacher, said. They both turned to look and her, John smiled, Sherlock turned back to his notes. 

“Hi,” John returned the greeting. 

John looked from Sherlock to Molly waiting for his college to acknowledge her. When he didn’t John gave her an apologetic smile.

“I have to get something,” Sherlock said collecting his notes and leaving the table. 

Molly frowned and took his seat. 

“He hates me doesn’t he?” She sighed. 

“He doesn’t hate you, he’s just an arsehole,” John explained. 

She turned around and watched as Sherlock left, “Not to you.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” John said sipping his coffee again.

“How come he likes you?” Molly asked.

“What?” John was taken aback.

“I mean, I’ve only been here for a couple months, but of all the teachers he only talks to you.,”

“It’s not that he likes me, it’s that he wants to beat me, at everything. He’s very competitive and apparently I’m the only one who’s ever beaten him in something,” John shrugged. 

“Oh,” She said. They fell silent. 

John took another sip of his coffee and looked around the teacher lunch room, avoiding Molly. The bell rang for lunch to end and John sighed in relief.

Molly waved her goodbye and wished him luck for his next class then walked over to Mr. Lestrade, the P.E. teacher.

“So,” He prompted.

“You’re right,” She sighed, “They’re totally in love.”

“So you want in?” he smiled.

“I’m in,” She said handing him ten pounds.

“I’ll add you to the bet,” He smiled.

 

After lunch John walked into his room to see Sherlock rifling through his drawers. It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see and each time John would tell him to get out his room and to stop stealing his equipment. John took the last sip of his coffee and tossed it in the rubbish bin before storming across his room. It seemed that Sherlock would need to be told _again_ why taking his equipment was bad.

“Why?” He said slamming one of the drawers, Sherlock had opened, shut.

“I need food coloring,” Sherlock said attempting to pull the drawer back open. John leaned against it denying him access.

“I bought that food coloring for my students, get your own,” John gritted out.

“ Really Mr. Watson,” Sherlock drawled, “You aren’t attempting to conduct any experiments with this food coloring any time soon; Might as well lend it to someone who is.”

“Lend? Lend it?” John laughed, “Mr. Holmes, when have you ever gave something I _lent_ you back?”

“Irrelevant,” Sherlock shrugged.

“No, very much relevant,” John retorted, “Besides, if you asked maybe I would let you, but you never ask!”

“Fine,” Sherlock stood from the drawer and readjusted his fine tailored suit. He looked back at John and rolled his eyes, “May I _have_ your food coloring?” He said mockingly.

John snorted, “No.”

“Oh, come on John,” He whined like a petulant child.

“5 pounds,”

“What?”

“5 pounds. You want this food coloring, you give me money,” John stuck his hand out.

“No,”

“The only way you’re going to get food coloring is to either pay me, or pay the store,” John said. 

Sherlock frowned and eyed the drawer. When he thought John wasn’t paying attention he pulled at it to open it but it slammed shut once again with John’s weight pressed against it.

“No,”

“John,”

“No,”

“Don’t make me say it,” Sherlock whined.

“You’re going to have to, or you’re going to pay me,” John was smiling, he always loved making Sherlock beg.

“John can I…” He closed his eyes and turned away. 

“You’re so close, just say it,” John was practically giddy.

Sherlock opened his eyes again and looked at John. With his voice low and pleading he whispered, “Please, John.” 

For as much as John denied being anything but platonic he was rather turned on by those words. Especially in the way Sherlock had uttered them. 

“Okay fine, but you owe me,” John smiled, moving to step away from the cabinet only to be pushed back. 

“What do I owe you?” Sherlock’s voice was low and John shivered.

Sherlock moved forward to crowd over John. He had an extra 6 inches on John and he liked to use it to his advantage during their arguments. They weren’t arguing any more, and John wasn’t sure if his usual response to push Sherlock back was appropriate. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to. John’s back pressed against the cabinet and Sherlock pressed into him. 

He leaned in and brushed his lips across John’s ear, “I could take over grading papers, maybe sharpen some pencils…”

“Maybe kiss me,” John’s voice was rough.

Sherlock smiled and grabbed John’s face and tilted it up toward him, pressing his lips to John’s. John melted into the kiss, opening his mouth and taking in Sherlock’s lower lip. Sherlock groaned and pressed against John, but it wasn’t close enough and John’s hands found their way to Sherlock’s hips pulling him tighter against him. 

In the hallway a burst of applause sounded and they pulled apart to see a group of students huddled by the door watching them.

“Tell anyone and you all get detention,” Sherlock growled.

“Too late,” one of the students said. 

Sherlock went over to the door and slammed it shut. There were sounds of protest on the other side. 

“Not how I imagined that would happen,” John said running his hand through his hair.

Sherlock turned to him with a smug smile, “But you imagined it happening.”

“Shut up, you’re going to be late to class,” John couldn’t help it, he was blushing like a school girl.

“They won’t mind,” Sherlock said waving his hand in the direction of the door, “Besides I need to ask you something in private.”

“Oh?”

“It has to do with our bet,” Sherlock’s voice was getting lower.

“Oh?” John said again.

“When I win-”

“When one of us win,” John corrected.

“When one of us win,” Sherlock said, he was crowding over John again, “the loser has to buy the victor dinner every Friday.”

“Is this your weird way of asking me on a date,”

“Why is it working,” Sherlock asked leaning in to kiss him again. It was slow and languid and John made an embarrassing moaning sound that was less embarrassing and more of a turn on for Sherlock.

“Yeah, just a bit,” John said when they pulled apart. 

There was a loud knock on the door and shouting from the students to let them in. Sherlock scowled and kissed John one more time before moving toward the door. His hand hovered at the handle.

“Do we have a deal?” He asked.

“Oh, god yes,” John nodded.

Sherlock opened the door and the crowd of student, both John’s and Sherlock’s, cheered and clapped. Sherlock winked at John then rounded the corner to his own classroom.

The students entered the class, all chattering loudly about the events that had taken place.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” John said trying to quiet the commotion. 

 

Across the campus every teacher, besides Sherlock and John, were getting an emailed picture of the two kissing, Mr. Lestrade having won 200 pounds.

 

**~ One Year Later ~**

 

“Can we get the check,” John asked the waiter.

He nodded and came back with it, handing it to John.

“Thank you,” he smiled at the waiter taking it. 

John smirked at Sherlock and handed him the bill.

“You’re going to rub it in my face every time aren’t you,” Sherlock said snatching it away.

“Of course,” John answered.

Sherlock sighed, placing his card inside the black folder and handing it to the waiter. He walked away.

“Your place or mine?” John asked.

“Mine,” 

“You always want to go back to yours,” John complained.

“I like when you’re at my place.”

“You don’t like being at mine?”

“No, I like being with you wherever, but you like my place better,” Sherlock said.

“How do you know,” John said leaning into the table.

“Because I have a headboard that you can handcuff me to,” Sherlock said leaning in as well.

“Your place it is.” John smirked. 

The waiter came back and gave Sherlock his card. They both got up and left the restaurant, waiting on the sidewalk to pick up a taxi.

“We should always make it my place.” Sherlock said breaking the silence. 

“Well you certainly always do,” John said. 

“No, I mean you should move in with me,” Sherlock said waving for a cab.

John looked up at him in shock. A cab pulled next to them and Sherlock moved to get in. John did not. Sherlock turned to him and saw John’s expression and moved from the door to in front of John.

“John?” He said cautiously. 

“You want…you…are you serious?” John asked. 

Sherlock placed his hands on John’s arms and rubbed them.

“Of course I am,” Sherlock smiled, “It’s only logical, we spend a lot of time in my flat anyways, and we could carpool to work.”

“Yeah, logical,” John said.

“You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?”

“Well then, I already offered.” 

John smiled and stood on his toes in order to press his lips against Sherlock’s.

“Okay,” He said.

“Okay, as in?”

“Okay, yeah I’ll move in,” John couldn’t stop smiling.

“Good.”

“So,” John said thoughtfully, “You move into my place if I win this year, and I move into yours if you win,”

“John,” Sherlock complained.

John laughed, “I’m kidding, I have different plans for out bet.”

“I hope they involve nudity.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“Because mine do too.”

 

 


End file.
